


AUs and Shorts For TMA

by Do_I_Exist_13



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alright lads ladies and nb folks it’s time to project on Jon, And Fog, Archivist Timothy Stoker, Because godddamn does Jon need people not being straight shit to him, Blind Jonathan Sims | The Archivist, Brief Emotional/Mental Abuse, Brief Physical Abuse, Canon-Typical Lonely Gasses, Desolation Avatar Jonathan Sims, Desolation!Jon, Dimension Travel, Ghost Podcast Jon, Ghost Podcast Martin, Like Mist, Lonely Avatar Jonathan Sims, Lonely!Jon, M/M, Mentions of Racism, More than canon-typical Jon’s Grandmother sucks, No beta we die like archival assistants, Other, Peter and Nathaniel Lukas Are better in this fic, Some platonic fluff - Freeform, Spooky Fog, The Author Lowkey Relates To The Lonely, White-haired Jonathan Sims | The Archivist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:55:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27089734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Do_I_Exist_13/pseuds/Do_I_Exist_13
Summary: While Jon is in his coma post s3 he would appear before the Eye in his coma and it would show him what could’ve been.Or; Canon Jon gets to visit a bunch of AUs.Comment any ideas for TMA AUs you’d like to see written in the future, just some rules; No smut, no crossovers unless, I know about the media you suggest, It’s TMA focused.Ex: MHA and TMA crossover where the MHA characters the main focus. That isn’t something I want to do, this is supposed to be a collection of TMA focused one-shots.An example of a TMA focused crossover would be Daisy as a Hunter from Bloodbrone, like 1k words of Daisy exploring the world of Yharnam. Or Jon doing that, don’t think I’m forgetting ‘our eyes are yet to open’ lines in Bloodborne.I am taking ships but I don’t really want that to be the main focus. Out-there ideas are welcome! And I’ll add more guidelines when I see fit/they’re needed.TEMPORARY HIATUS
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Actual Loss Of His Passion For Everything, Jonathan Sims & Nathaniel Lukas, Jonathan Sims & Peter Lukas, Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood, Jonathan Sims/Tim Stoker, More Relationship Tags to be Added
Comments: 29
Kudos: 32





	1. Archivist Tim and Desolation Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pretty self explanatory.

The Archivist opened his eyes in a familiar room in an unfamiliar place. Jon recognizes the Archives, only there’s something different about them. They don’t feel like his Archives. Jon hesitantly sits up from the position he’d found himself on the floor.

When had he woken up? When did he go back to the Archives?

“Hello? Is- is anyone here?” Jon hesitantly stepped out of the Recording Room and into the commons. The room looked more alive somehow, less like the strained, cursed place he’d worked every day for the past three years.

Faint footsteps could be heard to his right, “Jon? I thought you went out?” A voice- Tim’s echoed from the stairs leading out from the Archives.

“Tim? You- you’re alive?” Jon stepped toward his voice in a wary hopefulness. He was at the center of the blast, how could he still be alive?

“Alive? What’s-“ When Tim’s figure came into view Jon knew they both stopped dead in their tracks.

“You’re not Jon...” The poor imitation of Tim said in a terrified voice. It couldn’t have been Tim, his voice was too happy, he didn’t have as many scars either. He looked so much less tired and defeated. Clearly this Stranger had not been taught well. 

“Jon! Sasha! I need help!” Jon scowled, Not-Sasha was here too? Had she been let out by this Not-Tim? And another Stranger masquerading as him? One figure ran down the hall to meet the fake Tim.

The “Jon” had no scars and very short hair, his eyes were intense in a fashion that reminded him more of Jude Perry than any Stranger he’d seen.

“Why’d you come here?” The Not-Tim compelled. It wasn’t as strong as his own but still left Jon reeling with confusion. 

“H- How did you do that? Who are you?” Tim straightened up, easily giving into the compulsion.

“I’m the Head Archivist of the Magnus Insitute, Timothy Stoker,” He answered simply and impossibly. Jon growled at the lying thing. 

“Tim was at the center of the Circus’ explosion. He’s dead, whatever you are, you’re not Tim and you’re not the Archivist.” Jon said grimly.

“So tell me, Stranger, Who Are You?” The Not-Tim started rambling on about every single title and descriptive trait that the real Tim could’ve been described as. A figure, a stranger wearing his face came into view and looked at the Not-Tim to Jon before running at him with open fists. He grabbed Jon’s throat throat with an impossibly fiery hand.

“Get him to stop or else I will burn your head off of your neck!” The thing threatened while Jon screamed in pain.

“Stop!” He croaked out of his burned throat. The Tim-Thing stopped talking and dropped to its knees. The thing that looked like him dropped Jon to the floor like a rag doll and ran over to its companion.

It whispered to the Tim-Thing in a tone of genuine care and concern... they looked almost romantic together. The burns on his neck started closing up in a matter of seconds and the two strangers watched.

“You’re... You’re not a Stranger are you?” Jon stood there gawking at the Tim-Thing’s question.

“Wh- I’m- not... Wait aren’t- what- Aren’t you Strangers?” The two people(?) shared a confused look.

“No? Did you seriously think we were Strangers?” The Jon asked while looking like he was about to burst open with laughter any second. Jon nodded in a somewhat shameful manner.

“After he burned you and I compelled you, you thought we were Strangers?” Tim asked. The two share another look and Jon can’t help but flush in embarrassent. 

“I’ve had a long couple of months okay!” He snaps as they start giggling. The Tim starts laughing harder while the Jon winds down. He waits very patiently for them to stop. When they do, the Tim asks him a question.

“Ok, ok, who the fuck are you?” Jon shoots him an unimpressed look.

“I’m Jonathan Sims, the Archivist.” Tim looks at him with an unreadable expression, the Jon scoots closer to Tim on the floor.

“... So is this like a dimensional travel situation...?” Tim cheekily asks. The Jon groans at Tim with a fake frustration.

“That would... appear to be accurate.” Jon says reluctantly. Tim pushes himself up with other Jon’s help and claps his hands together.

“So, uh what happened?” It’s jarring how kind this Tim is to him.

“You’re going to have to be more specific...” Tim ‘oh-ed’ and invited him into the recording room, there was a red velvet couch that Jon hadn’t noticed when he woke up.

Tim and other Jon sit very close on the couch, though there was lots of space. Jon sits on the far end of the couch.

“Maybe Start from the beginning and go from there?” Tim suggests. A tape recorder clicks off and Jon dissapears through the floor.


	2. The Eye!!! Or Jon and Elias got personality fused and no one is happy about it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically Main-man Jon is all like... Elias...? And I say, perhaps...

The next place Jon wakes up in the Archives feel so entirely diffrerent that it gives Jon vertigo. If Jon was forced to describe how it felt he’d probably say it feels like it’s being run by half of a person.

“Don’t. Move.” Jon ignores the voice and whips around. Another Jon... wielding a gun. His hair is much shorter and dyed pure black, making him look younger. 

He lacks the distinctive pockmark scars that litter Jon’s body, and the burn scar on Jon’s hand is significantly less prominent. His clothing is professional, cozy-looking and fashionable at the same time. Clearly this Jon’s fate has been much kinder to him.

His right eye is closed and his gun sight is focused on Jon’s head.

“I will not hesitate to shoot,” the other man’s tone sends shivers up Jon’s spine. It’s ruthless and threatening and Jon has no doubt that if he doesn’t start explaining himself soon that this other Jon will shoot.

“I’m Jonathan Sims- I- I’m from another dimension, the Eye has been throwing me into them.” The other Jon lowers his gun hesitantly and opens his right eye. 

The color almost gives him a heart attack. The unearthly blue fades white toward the pupil, Jon has never seen the color on anyone except Elias. As if on cue, Jon feels the weight of a thousand eyes press in on him. 

He gasps and the other Jon tilts his head to the left. The Elias-ness of the gesture throws him off balance, the only difference being Elias always tilted his head to the right.

“What?” The other man snaps, clearly off-put by Jon’s reaction.

“Um- Your eye-“ Jon says. The other man growls at him, mumbling ‘they always mention the eye’.

“It’s a side affect of being a Beholding avatar. Christ, I thought you were Beholding too.” He snarls at Jon, patronizing tone on full display.

“No... no I don’t think it is.”

“What do you mean? What else could it possibly be?” The other Jon questioned. Oof...

“I am a Beholding avatar too... I uh, I’m going to test a theory and I should probably get Elias for this.” Jon left the office with other Jon (Jolias? Elion? Jonas?) close at his heels.

“What do you mean? Does the Eye work differently in your world? What on earth do you need Elias for?” Jonas seemed genuinely curious about about the possibility, a tape recorder had materialized in his hands to follow suit.

While weaving through the insitute’s halls he saw Melanie, she almost looked like she wanted to approach but as soon as she saw Jonas she turned tail and left. Jon came up to Elias’ door and knocked furiously.

An unconfident and tired sounding voice came from inside Elias’ office, “The door’s unlocked...” Jon opened the door and took in the sight of an unkempt Elias Bouchard.

Well, not exactly unkempt, he looked dishelved. He had blue contacts framed by dark bags that rivaled Jon’s own, his suit was clean and pressed, but open and his tie was far looser than Jon had ever seen it.

His hair was uncombed and longer than his Elias’ and the permanently smug expression was wiped away from his face. Elon (Jon dubbed him) had his head in his hands and looked guilty. His posture had degraded massively from the ruler-straight man Jon had last seen and he looked more like a wilted flower.

“Uh...” Jon honestly felt kind of bad involving Elon, “Can you take your contacts out...?” Elon nodded lamely. The light blue contacts slid out of his eyes effortlessly. They revealed his completely dark brown left eye and a half brown-half blue eye on his right.

Jonas clutched the wall for dear life. His expression flashed from devastated to angry in an instant. Only it looked like someone took a picture of Elias being angry and copy-pasted it onto Jon’s face. Wholly unstettling is the only way Jon could describe it. 

For once, Jon considered himself lucky.

“Jon? If you’d leave us alone it’s be much appreciated.” Jonas commanded. Jon left quickly, but not quickly enough to miss the distinctive sounds of a gunshot.


	3. Just Some Cozy Times At An Apartment With Podcast JonMartin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mostly what is says on the tin, though there is a brief discussion of the AU Jon’s time at the institute. (Hopefully I’ve made up for the faint sad by the end)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw, Jon is canon Jon and Jonathan is AU Jon
> 
> Also it’s the middle of July in the fic and Martin has made their living room look aggressively halloweeny. The season never dies in Martin’s eyes. Also Martin’s a bit protective.

Jon opens his eyes and he’s not in the Archives at all. He’s in a cozy-looking living room with spooky decorations, a mic setup and a portable camera on the coffee table. He hesitantly gets up and inspects the place, it’s all very surreal.

He sorts through the orange and black striped cabinet curiously and closely inspects the 8-track records within. He’s dutifully ruffling through a pile of vintage movies when he hears the sound of a door opening and closing behind him.

“Jon? I thought you were asleep?” The voice of Martin calls out from behind him. Jon turns around and meets his gaze. Martin’s eyes widen to the size of dinner plates and he immediately fumbles around with the keys he’s holding.

“D- don’t move! I- I have a gun in my bag and I- I’ll shoot if you come any c-closer!” He stutters out. He knows Martin’s bluffing and that even if he had a gun, Jon’s not sure he could be killed with it. Still, he puts his hands up.

“Martin, please believe me when I say that I’m from another dimension, and I am Jon,” He reassures. Martin seems to relax slightly but still looks tense.

“I’m going to wake my Jon up- so don’t do anything sketchy, o-or else!” Martin slowly leaves the living room, never fully taking his eyes off of Jon and dissapears up a flight of stairs. Jon sits down on their admittedly small black sofa and waits for Martin and another him to come back.

A few minutes later Martin comes back holding another Jonathan in his arms. Blush creeps onto Jon’s face as Martin gently sets Jonathan on the couch across from his own.

“Are you two together?” Jon asks. Martin nods and props Jonathan up, who upon closer inspection seems to be only half-awake and wearing a pair of sunglasses. A warm fluttery feeling settles in Jon’s gut when he imagines his Martin carrying him.

“Yep. We actually met a few years back when Jon started a ghost hunting show, he needed an editor and I needed work, things went quite smoothly from there” Martin explains fondly. Jonathan nods and sleepily pulls himself closer to Martin. This must be a world where Jon never found the Institute, Martin too, he can’t help but think they’re far better off.

“You never found work at the Magnus Institute then?” He asks, pretty sure of his ‘never found the Institute’ theory but still wanting to confirm, to truly know. Jonathan jolts up from his comfy-Martin position and chokes on air. Martin moves to comfort him and gives Jon a withering look.

“Unfortunately, we did find it, well, he did. And he’s done with the place so-” Martin starts, he’s getting quite worked up when Jonathan cuts him off.

“Martin, it’s fine. He didn’t know, and I’m perfectly capable of explaining my situation myself... I originally joined the Institute after I made a few statements there, and I had been publicly disowned. Elias Douchard coaxed me into joining after I’d been infected by the Slaughter- you know what the entities are, don’t you?” Jonathan asks.

“Yes,” He answers, intrigued by differences of the events between Jon’s and Jonathan’s timeline.

“I found out ‘can’t quit’ wasn’t an expression the hard way and “worked” there for the better part of two years. Melanie, Tim, Basira and Daisy blew up some clowns. Basira made it out, Melanie went into a coma, Daisy was thrown into some sort of coffin? I wasn’t really paying attention to anything that wasn’t in front of my face at the time, falling into the embodiment of rage and violence tends to do that to you. Some Flesh guy attacked while Melanie was out of commission and I slaughtered the fuck out of him and his flesh minions. Though to be fair, Helen- the distortion- helped. Not long after Melanie finally decided to wake up. I- I was angry, to say the least. I’d switch between feeling like she abandoned us, to ranting about how she shouldn’t have survived and we shouldn’t willingly be letting monsters in. Basira let her back in and hardly a fucking week back she performed impromtu surgery on my leg... still have the scar...” Jonathan takes in a shaky breath and Martin closes his arms around him.

“Do you need a moment?” Martin asks. Jonathan nods firmly and stands up. Martin bolts up from his seat and gives Jonathan a questioning look before whispering something to him.

“I’m just getting water Martin, I’ll be fine, I know the about of the house well enough by now,” He replies to Martin’s unheard whisper. Jonathan slowly moves toward the general area where the kitchen is, feeling his way across the room to the small kitchen. 

Martin’s eyes track him all the way there and he doesn’t ease up until Jonathan has safely retrieved a glass that was convently stashed on the counter. He feels his way to the sink and pours a tall glass of water.

He makes his way back to the couch and plops down by Martin. Jon watches him curiously.

“Can I explain what we’ve been up to since you left?” Martin asks. Jonathan shrugs in response.

“After Jon left, he needed a place to stay, we’d been pretty close since his ghost-podcast days but we didn’t really get together until he got therapy and left the Institute. We’ve started our own ghost-hunting show on YouTube where we mostly just spend our time looking into spooky locations and spending a night there. It’s more like a spooky sleepover than anything. So far we’ve made a first season and it’s going pretty well,” Martin fondly says.

A small, warm smile rests itself on Jonathan’s face and he leans in closer to Martin. Jon can’t help but feel his heart squeeze at the gesture.

“We’re actually in the process of trying to get a service dog, the dog’s still in training but pretty soon they’re going to be ready,” Jonathan adds.

“I’m curious about something you said earlier, you said you left the Institute, how’s did-”

Jon falls through the floor and into the cosmic space in-between worlds as soon as the Eye hears him ask the question of how to quit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Jon, the Eye won’t let him find out how to quit...
> 
> Idea requested by lyfthemuffinmoth.


	4. A Terribly Lonely Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is going to be a bit different lads, so strap in and read the beginning notes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings! Mentions of child abuse, emotional and mentioned physical. Also the Lonely Jon makes some excuses for the person who does the abuse. Also brief racism, unhealthy mindsets and heavy self-deprecation. If that’s going to make you sad, please leave for your own brain.

Lonely is the best way one could describe the eight-year-old Jonathan Sims. Lonely and afraid. After all, who would want to hang out with the rude, crybaby who hated and feared spiders as though the orb weaver in the school’s playground had truly killed someone?

It hurt, the knowledge that no-one liked him, that no-one could like him because he was a prickly know-it-all, because he was a crybaby and no-one liked being around someone who cried.

When his grandmother told him to toughen up, to brace the storm, and that she knew he was strong enough to, Jon’s heart almost warmed. But then, she said he was choosing not to, that he was a great, smart child who was chosing to throw his opportunities away by acting like that.

At nine, Jonathan Sims would best be described as in denial. Lonely and in denial. He told himself that he wasn’t a people-person, that he didn’t need friends because he wasn’t someone who needed people like that. He was still so very lonely, but said that he was just fine, he wasn’t lonely because he preferred spending time with himself.

Shortly after Jon’s tenth birthday a massive thunder storm hit Bournemouth while Jon was in school. A lockdown was issued and the power was out. Jon, despite his loneliness was still a curious child and climbed up to the foggy windows and looked out into the mist. Never had Jon felt more understood than those moments where he gazed out into the mist and felt it gaze back into him.

The air around Jon always felt heavier after that day. He’d look at anyone who approached him like he wanted them to dissapear. He’d start sneaking out after dark to be truly alone, to be completely isolated for miles.

At thirteen, Jon stopped being lonely and started being Alone. When he went out for his nightly walks the Fog that followed him would never be far behind, sometimes it would take Jon to its salty shores and hide him until morning.

One day, Jon had been in the process of finding a nice, Lonely field to bask in someone had interrupted him, they’d been a cop asking him where his family was and why he was out there alone. They’d eyed him with a more scrutinous eye when they saw his skin color. His grandmother had warned him to be careful with police, to be nice and polite and accommodating.

Jon was thirteen, scared and wanted nothing more than the person to go away. The mist pooled around the officer and swallowed them whole. This was the first time anyone had dissapeared because of Jon, and he was terrified. He was so very scared, so he ran. He ran, and ran, and ran until he was on a train to London and Jon was sitting across from a man in a navy-blue suit.

Jon’s eyes were red with the salty tears he’d been crying when he noticed the man eyeing him strangely. The man introduced himself as Nathaniel Lukas and asked Jon why he was crying. Jon answered “Because I made someone dissapear!” In hiccuping sobs.

Nathaniel gave him a most curious look and the stone-like features of his face softened imperceptibly. “You came on the Bournemouth stop, correct? What’s a Lonely lad like you doing there?” His gruff voice asked.

He stopped his hiccuping sobs for a second and wiped the too-salty tears from his eyes to get a better look at the old man sitting across from him. His eyes were a cloudy blue, like sea foam on the ocean waves and his well-maintained hair was the color of a stormy sky, grey and white.

“I-I live there, I w-was going on a walk, t-to be alone and then this pers-son came up to me and-!” Jon’s words were halted by both the strangled sob that escaped his lips and the jolting stop of the train.

Nathaniel stood up and walked over to Jon, he put his cold hand on Jon’s back and said, “Don’t worry lad, you didn’t do anything wrong. Embrace the Lonely, don’t fight it, believe me son, it’s a losing battle. You’ll feel much better, much more full, in th’ morn.”

And with that, Nathaniel was gone. Jon didn’t see him go, he didn’t even see a plume of Mist left behind. Jon arrived home at last and collapsed into his grandmother’s unwelcoming arms. He isn’t as tired as he maybe he should be. He felt good, better even than he had in a long while. His grandmother yells and screams and shouts at him. Jon thought back to Nathaniel’s words, how he reassured him that he hadn’t done anything wrong.

Then Jon looked at his grandmother, his cold, fearful eyes meet her angry ones and the mist licked at the edges of her outraged form. Jon considers it for a second, a moment of scared panic and the option of letting the mist envelop her sits in his mind. It’s tempting, it’s very tempting but he can’t quite bring himself to let the fog take her.

The shouting passes and Jon is back to school the next day, he’s supposed to pretend everything is normal, that everything is fine and he is fine. But it’s not and he isn’t.

At fourteen Jon has gotten so very tired of being hungry and is growing tried at being exhausted. He starts taking people regularly, his nightly walks serve a dual purpose now, both as comfort and sustenance in the form of any adult that gets too close. At fourteen is also when Jon notices the first white hair.

It’s innocuous enough, a simple strand of silver in his dark bangs, he frowns when he sees it, knowing on a deep level that it isn’t a one-time thing.

He’s proven correct when throughout the years of fourteen and fifteen his hair slowly becomes at least a quarter white. Jon does not fail to notice that his new hairs are also the exact color of the thick fog that’s never too far away from him. Great, he thinks to himself, just what I wanted, supernaturally greying hair.

Jon tries not to let it bother him, he has more important things to think about anyway. Anything would be more important to think about, Jon’s just weird, always thinking about things that don’t matter when he knows he should be focusing on his schooling, or his career, or his future, or anything that wasn’t so terribly daft. That last line came from his grandmother. Jon got an especially low grade on an assignment and Mrs. Sims had a few... concerns.

Jon is going to be fine though, he has no right to be anything but fine. He’s fine because she’s not the monster who eats people at night. She’s not the bad guy. If anyone is the bad guy, it would be him, stealing people away from their homes, never to return like some sort of evil fae.

Sixteen is when Jon gets his driver’s license. It’s not a big deal. Neither is the fight that ensues afterwards. It was supposed to be Jon’s birthday. Key word ‘supposed’ to be. It started out nice enough, his Grandmother made him a nice dinner and even bought a cake. Then, she got out the wine. Then, she started jabbing him while he was putting away the food. Then, a plate broke.

She made him drop it, and he got cut. Even with his monstrous status he’s entitled to a little bit of anger. Unfortunately, she doesn’t see it that way and the biggest fight they’ve ever had breaks loose. Jon’s vocal chords are worn and scratchy, his eyes are red with salty tears and unrepeatable things are screamed between the two. He was afraid during that night. He was terrified of this short, harmless old lady. Though he wasn’t in any real danger. He could’ve called CPS if it got too bad. He could’ve let the mist consume her if he was actually being abused.

Besides, the slap wasn’t even that hard. Could it even be called a slap? Jon doubted it. What she said wasn’t even false either, he’s selfish, and ungrateful, and above all, a monster. Sure, she smashed the food she made him on the floor, and okay, he flinched when she did that, but it was just food. Throwing food on the floor is rude- but it’s not abuse and trust him, he’d know if it was abused.

At seventeen Jon spends most of his time in the house, coldly reading and studying. His hair is about half white, and, from a purely aesthetic point of view, he doesn’t hate it. His eyes also seem to be getting lighter. Should he be concerned about turning albino? Jon hopes not, he’s content with how he looks now.

On an unrelated note, he’s just found out about The Magnus Institute! Apparently, it’s a society of scholars that research the paranormal! That entire day Jon was jumping for joy, truly excited for something other than his next meal for the first time in... -well it didn’t matter, he was happy! Jon was soon on a fast train to London and was far too gleeful to notice the middle-aged goth sitting beside him.

“Uh- aren’t you a bit young to be going to the Magnus Institute?” The man asked. Jon snaps his head over to the man beside him so fast it made his neck crack. Jon instinctively recoiled and looked around to see if there was anyone else the goth could’ve been talking to.

“H-how’d you know I was going to the Magnus Institute?” Jon questioned. The goth gave him a knowing frown.

“On second thought, aren’t you a bit young to be an Avatar?” The man says, completely ignoring Jon’s very valid question. Avatar...? Jon wonders what this new, mysterious word might mean.

“What’s an Avatar? And I’m almost an adult, seventeen to be exact,” He replies snappily, hoping for an answer this time despite the goth’s dismissive attitude. The goth laughs wearily and only then does Jon notice that the bags under the man’s eyes aren’t just makeup.

A pang of sympathy could be seen in the goth’s eyes as he explained the enitities to Jon. He wasn’t quite sure he was ready to hear it, the truth didn’t feel real. Not the fear-god part, not the Magnus Insitute had a fear god, and especially not the he served the fear-god of depression part. It made more sense than he’d liked to admit.

Jon decides to hold off going to the Magnus Institute until he’s older, his giddy joy severely dampened by the fear-god revelation.

At eighteen, Jon graduates secondary, and his grandmother dies from a heart attack. A perfectly natural death. It bothers Jon more than it should, he always thought he was going to break one day and tell her, or kill her, that seemed like a strangely fitting death. Not the natural, normal, human heart attack that claimed her.

By this time he only has a few salt-water tears to shed at her funeral. Her memory seems poisoned by every single bad moment shared between them. It’s to the point that it’s all he can think about. The lack of apologies, the fights, the insults repeat mockingly in his head. He’s not sure how to feel about the empty funeral turnout.

It makes sense. She didn’t go out much. It’s almost funny. He was the only person she had left and he couldn’t even stay a person. The living embodiment of Lonliness being the only thing going to your funeral seems oddly poetic. Too poetic.

When Jon turns nineteen he applies to Oxford, prepares to be rejected and live a life of misery and- wait he gets in? Hm. Jon moves to the on-campus lodging and feels less lonely than in almost his entire life. He doesn’t trust the feeling. Whenever he’s feeling good something bad happens, it’s just how his life is.

Jon finds an interesting book- it’s cursed. Jon looks at a beautiful storm- no it’s actually a fear god that claimed his soul. Jon has a birthday that seems nice- his grandmother and him fight. He’s excited about going to a paranormal research facility- wait, it’s run by the god of creeps. Jon wants to move out- his grandmother dies. So can he be blamed when he’s on edge for the next week?

At least his deranged paranoia leads to something good, it’s the first time anything good has come of his senseless superstition. Jonathan Sims meets Gerorgina Barker and they hit it off, despite the insidious voice inside Jon’s head telling him that Georgie is nice and she doesn’t deserve to be hurt like he’s inevitably going to.

They go on a date a couple of days later and are officially in a relationship. It’s nice, Jon thinks, having someone that likes you. Or- someone who likes you and doesn’t yell at you. Georgie is also kind enough to share her friends, though he really doesn’t deserve it. They’re also nice, even though Georgie probably just told them to be welcoming, she’s good like that, so he wouldn’t be surprised if she told them to act like he was interesting.

He doesn’t feel lonely for the first time since... since... It doesn’t matter, he’s not lonely and he feels like he has friends, sometimes he can even convince himself that they’re not just Georgie’s friends. Though ‘eating well’ and maintaining his newfound social life is much harder. Turns out the god of isolation doesn’t like it when you talk to people. He has to ‘eat’ much more frequently now and Georgie is getting suspicious.

Jon doesn’t want to tell her, she’ll hate him. He might even make her yell. But she’s starting to get suspicious of his late-night dissapearances and he can’t hide it forever.

At twenty-one Gerogie learns of Jon’s inhuman status through something so silly that it makes Jon want to scream, cry and laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. She came home early from her job and he thought she was out, he was in their flat- the Lonely version- and popped back in for a quick glass of water. Georgie happened to walk in on him while he reappeared in their flat, sifting out through the fog like an evil fae.

Needless to say, he had some explaining to do. Georgie got angry, because of course she would, he was hiding something huge from her, he walks into her life, lies about who he is and has the audacity to steal her friends, leech off of her life and even pretend to have half-ownership of her cat. Honestly? He’s just surprised she didn’t kick him to the curb.

The voice in his head was right, he was going to hurt her. Not physically- he’s not that much of a monster, but he should never have allowed himself to be selfish enough to even consider becoming Georgie’s boyfriend.

At twenty-three Jon gets his degree and applies to the Magnus Institute, fully over his breakup. The eyes of Jonah Magnus drink him in greedily at the interview. Jon can tell he’s intrigued, yet he sends Jon to some bourgie-looking sailor named Peter Lukas. When he finally gets to meet Peter, he’s surprised. Peter is like him. Honestly- it’s a bit of a shock.

He’s heard of other people(?) like him before but meeting someone, seeing someone like him in person- it’s exciting. They both ask questions, they both complain about their mutual fear god, they both whine about human interaction, it’s great! Jon hits it off so well with Peter that they agree to meet up once a month, for an avatar of depression, Jon finds Peter surprisingly easy to talk to.

By twenty-six Jon is living steadily and he’s met a few other avatars, including Simon Fairchild, Mike Crew, Jude Perry, and a few other Lukases. Some are more agreeable than others (the burn still aches). He’s completely accepted his Lonliness and his lonliness by now, it’s an unchangeable fact. The sky is vast, the ground is crushing and Jonathan Sims is lonely. It doesn’t even hurt anymore.

Around twenty-seven is when Jon’s last black hair is replaced with the cloudy fog-white ones. He asks Peter if that means he’s lost all of his humanity. Peter says that one can’t measure humanity and hair color is just flashy nonsense. Jon supposes that makes enough sense, he started his path to becoming an Avatar long before his hair started turning white and evolving through Avatar-ness lasts throughout your whole life and is hardly linear.

...But Jon still feels like he just lost the last bit of his humanity no matter how he tries to logic himself out of it. It feels like he just lost part of his soul and the reality that he’s a depression-guzzling fear monster feels so much more twisted and real.

Finally, at twenty-eight, Jon is sat alone in his flat with a stranger who’s wearing his face and has hungry eyes. It would seem he wants a story, Jon sighs at the click of the tape recorder and prepares himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter requested my Maiza and IanRider. 
> 
> Some of what Jon goes through is heavily based on experiences I’ve been through. So sorry for any weirdness that resulted from that. Another apology for the late upload, I’ve been going through some shit and honestly I don’t need people breaking plates and joking about burning me alive.

**Author's Note:**

> Comment any ideas you’d like to see written here in the future!


End file.
